


An Exercise in Endurance

by february



Series: The Klaine Spanko Verse [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: Bruises, Dom/sub, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Ice Play, Klaine, M/M, Paddling, Painplay, Spanking, hard spanking, spanked to tears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2015-03-22
Packaged: 2018-03-19 02:44:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3593424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/february/pseuds/february
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt and Blaine engage in casual, domestic spanking fun. Kurt thinks up a new challenge for Blaine and Blaine complies as best he can and gets a hard spanking with a lexan paddle as a reward.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Exercise in Endurance

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [@misswonderheart](http://misswonderheart.tumblr.com) for the beta! 
> 
>  [In case you don't know what a Lexan paddle is, click here. ](http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/31jXsce%2BzBL._SY355_.jpg)
> 
> This is the first of what is hopefully going to be a whole fun, sexy universe where Kurt and Blaine engage in domestic spanking and painplay shenanigans. 
> 
> This story does not contain light spanking. Please heed the tags. Blaine is spanked until he starts crying - and then spanked a little more. But both Kurt and Blaine are very much into what they're doing, and safe words and consent are present throughout the fic. However, if hard spanking or bruising isn't your thing, please hit your back button or read with caution! <3 Also, for a pwp, there's no orgasms in this story. Also also, given the content, it's really quite fluffy. Enjoy?????
> 
> [On Tumblr](http://acciocoolbeans.tumblr.com/post/114330043353/fic-an-exercise-in-endurance) | [On LJ](http://waxpoetically.livejournal.com/19763.html)

"I want you to do something special for me," Kurt says. There's a glint in his eyes, excitement he gets when he's found something new for them to try. Blaine immediately perks up. He hadn't really been focusing on his textbook anyway, and whatever Kurt's planning will be much more exciting.

He licks his lips. "Yes, Sir?" he asks. Kurt grins and holds out his hand, pulling Blaine up from the couch and leading him over to the far wall of their apartment that leads into the kitchen. 

"I want you to strip, and then I want you to sit against this wall as long as you can," Kurt says. "Like this." He backs up against the wall and then slides down until he looks like he's sitting in a chair, but there's nothing holding him up except his back against the wall and his feet planted firmly on the carpet. 

Blaine looks Kurt over. Kurt's wearing a black sweater with sleeves pushed up lazily to his elbow and a wide collar that slouches and shows off his collar bones and the two freckles between them that Blaine loves to kiss. Blaine can't see Kurt's abs, but he knows they're toned, flexed to hold this pose, and Kurt does it effortlessly. 

But still... they work out together enough that Blaine may be familiar with the pose, but he doesn't see how there's anything sexy about it. If Kurt wants him to do it, he will, but...

"Is that... all?" he asks, hesitating because he doesn't want to be disrespectful, not in a scene, but really. Is that _it_?

One corner of Kurt's pink mouth lifts up in a smirk. Without adjusting his position, he reaches into the pocket of his sweatpants and pulls out a digital kitchen timer. One with a big display and bright red letters. 

"Well, for one thing," Kurt says as his gaze travels down Blaine's body so slowly that Blaine feels himself heat up with a blush, "you'll be naked. Of course."

"Of course," Blaine says, his mouth suddenly dry.

"And for another," Kurt says, pushing himself up to standing and walking behind Blaine. He drapes his arms loosely around Blaine's shoulders and holds the timer up in front of Blaine's face. "I'm going to see just how long you can hold yourself in a good wall sit. Let's, oh..." He presses a button. "Let's measure this in seconds. How many seconds can you hold yourself like that without needing a break?" 

Blaine wracks his brain. He has no idea, honestly. He has a tendency to opt for cardio too much to really train his muscles like Kurt does, so he's pretty sure he could go for a few minutes, but he has no idea, really. And a few minutes is... a lot of seconds. He swallows. "I... I'm not sure. But... a while? I'll try my best, Kurt."

Kurt presses a kiss to the back of Blaine's neck and breathes across his skin, making the short hairs there ruffle and tickle Blaine's neck. "Good boy," Kurt says. "Because, I want you to stay there as long as you can, but afterward, I'm going to bend you over the couch and spank you one time for every second you last." 

Blaine's eyes grow wide as he stares at the timer. It flashes 00:00 at him, menacing all of a sudden. If he does his best for Kurt, then this will be one of his longest spankings yet. Even holding the pose for one minute guarantees him at least sixty times Kurt's hand will come crashing down on his ass.

Kurt cups the back of one of Blaine's hands in his own and raises it up, curling Blaine's fingers around the timer so he can hold it instead. Blaine numbly does, mind still reeling from what this will mean, and his dick throbbing at the thought. Kurt's fingers make their way down Blaine's sides, walking down his ribs and then sliding under the elastic waist of Blaine's plaid pajama pants. 

They slide down off him and pool at his feet way too easily. Blaine's breath hitches when Kurt cups his ass with both hands. "God, Blaine, you're going to be so red," he says, then there's cool air on his neck instead of Kurt's breath as Kurt kneels down behind him and plants light, damp kisses to Blaine's ass cheeks. 

He spins Blaine around then, eyes widening when Blaine's dick bounces against his cheek and then waves in front of his face. "Oh, well hello there," he says, grinning up at Blaine. 

Blaine blushes even darker, his cock straining in the air, pointed straight at Kurt's unfairly closed mouth. 

"Tell you what, Blaine. If you make it five minutes, I'll bring out your favorite paddle." 

Saying Blaine has a favorite paddle is a bit misleading. Whatever part of his brain that enjoys... all this, that enjoys each lick of Kurt's hand or whatever paddle or belt or anything that Kurt chooses to spank him with does have a favorite, the lexan paddle that's longer than any of their others and has eighteen tidy, rounded holes drilled into it from tip to handle. But another part of him _hates_ that paddle. It delivers the most sting, and just because it was reviewed as "ten out of ten stings!" on the cheesy site they purchased it from does not mean Kurt delivers it lightly. 

Blaine clenches his cheeks at the thought and eyes the timer in his hands. He could always make it to four minutes and fifty-nine seconds...

But he can't. Kurt would know. Kurt would _so_ know that Blaine isn't being honest with him. "Oh, of course, Kurt, this is _definitely_ as long as I could hold it! Nope, of course I'm not trying to get out of the paddle. Ha ha ha, you're so silly, aren't you so silly?"

Yeah, Kurt would see right through that.

Kurt slithers back up, trapping Blaine's cock between their thighs, the soft cotton of Kurt's pants rubbing against Blaine and making him swallow back a whimper. Kurt never plays fair when he gets in these moods. "If it makes you feel better, I'll give you the blowjob of your life after as a thank you," Kurt says, smiling in that blush-pink sexy way he does where he says something dirty and then can't believe he just said it. It's adorable. 

"Every blowjob you give me is the blowjob of my life. They're all the best," Blaine says, cupping Kurt's cheek with one hand and leaning up to kiss him. Kurt melts into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Blaine's waist, the timer forgotten for a few short moments.

"Flattery will get you everywhere," Kurt says. "But first you have something you need to be doing." He inches Blaine's t-shirt up until Blaine raises his arms with a sigh and lets Kurt wiggle it off of him and toss it to the floor. "God, look at you." 

Kurt gets lost in a stare but then shakes himself out of it. "You need to stretch!"

"You can't be serious. We're not _working out_ ," Blaine says, groaning even as Kurt goes down into a lunge and Blaine mirrors him on instinct.

"I am serious. That pose is demanding! And you have seven lessons to teach tomorrow. I want your _ass_ sore, not _all_ of you sore. I don't want you to be _miserable_."

"Gee, thanks," Blaine says as he laughs, rolling his eyes as they switch legs and he lunges forward, toes even with his shoulders. "I can't believe I'm doing stretches naked."

"I can't believe I didn't think of this sooner. You're stretching naked for the rest of our lives." Kurt straightens and puts his legs together, hands on his waist as he leans to the side, stretching one side then the other. 

Blaine follows him to each stretch, working his legs, his core, and even his arms out, bending backwards and forwards while his dick bobs in front of him. He'd feel more awkward about it if Kurt's wasn't tenting his sweatpants as ridiculously as well. This really is one of the stranger things they've done, but he can't deny that they're both very obviously into it.

Kurt rounds the corner into the kitchen and gets two water bottles, opening one and passing it to Blaine. "Drink the whole thing," he says. "Then we'll start."

"Oh, yes, _Sir_ ," Blaine says, exaggerating the words and pulling a face at Kurt that has Kurt failing to hold back a smile even as he swats at Blaine's ass. 

"Damn right, 'yes, Sir,' now drink." Blaine tips his bottle up to his lips, meeting Kurt's eye as Kurt does the same, and suddenly it's a race, both of them guzzling the water, plastic crunching as air leaves the bottles, and throats bobbing as they try to beat each other.

"Ha!" Blaine says, panting as he sucks in breaths while Kurt drains the last drops of his water, glowering at Blaine over the bottle while he does. Blaine squeezes his bottle, crunching it up in the middle before tossing it in the trash. 

"Whatever, at least I don't have to sit against a wall as long as possible," Kurt says, throwing his bottle away and then slipping the timer from Blaine. 

"No, you're just the devious one who came up with the idea because you like to see me suffer," Blaine says, grinning. "What was our record the last time we even tried this?" They haven't done wall sits in forever, but they used to compete to see who could hold the pose the longest. Blaine lost miserably almost every time. 

"Like four minutes or something?" Kurt says offhandedly. "Are you ready?" 

Now that it's time to really _go for it_ , Blaine's heart starts racing. It's go time, and it's far from just being a workout or a competition or anything normal. This time, no matter how long he holds the pose, thirty seconds or thirty minutes, he'll be getting a serious spanking. Even if it's just with Kurt's hand, Blaine knows Kurt can leave him not wanting to sit for awhile. 

He swallows and nods. "Yeah, ready," he says. 

Kurt chews on his lip, eyeing Blaine over, and then nods decisively. "Back against the wall," he says. Blaine follows him wordlessly, skin twitching at the sudden coolness of the wall as he presses his body against it.

"Now walk out." Blaine obeys again, walking his feet out away from the wall. "And sit." He slides slowly down the wall, eyes glued to Kurt. His knees bend, and he stops when he's at a right angle, his back straight, head against the wall.

Kurt stands in front of him and presses the timer on with a quiet beep, putting it down on the corner table, right in Blaine's eyeline, so Blaine can watch the time pass and know how much he's going to take. 

"Remember, you're in control. When you've had enough, you stop. Don't hurt yourself," Kurt says, leaning in and pressing a warm kiss to Blaine's forehead, smiling against Blaine's skin. "That's my job."

"Don't I know it," Blaine says with a smile. He inhales deep through his nose and blows it out, closing his eyes and resting his palms on his thighs. He can do this. It won't be that bad. It's not like he's _new_ to doing this. Just... out of practice. A bit.

Kurt fidgets around Blaine. Even with his eyes closed, Blaine knows what Kurt's doing: picking things up, setting them down. Straightening the magazines on the coffee table. Opening the fridge, getting nothing out, closing the fridge. Fixing the curtains. Kurt is terrible about waiting. 

Blaine, meanwhile, has reached a sense of peace. Sweat is beading up along the back of his neck and his upper lip. Kurt always cranks up the heat when Blaine's going to be naked for awhile anyway, and all of Blaine's muscles are tense, even the ones not being held tight for the pose, just in anticipation alone. 

The first tremor of his thighs happens, and then his core tightens to compensate. His calves begin to ache, and it's like a train wreck happening in slow-motion as his body seems to realize that no, he's really not going to get up and yes, he really is insane. He peeks one eye open, glancing at the timer.

2:38. 

Okay, better than he thought it would be. Can he do more? He digs his fingertips into his thighs then releases, then starts with his toes and clenches and unclenches each major muscle group as he works up his body, tensing the muscles and relaxing as he keeps the pose.

3:49.

Blaine swallows hard, tips his head back a little and breathes out. His abdomen is not happy with him, but his abdomen can suck it up. Blaine knows, in the logical, back of his mind that Kurt will be happy with him no matter what he can do. But there's another part of his brain, a darker, sometimes inky black and twisted part, that knows he has to be the best. He has to really impress Kurt, that Kurt deserves for Blaine to push himself, to make himself take it, to take this like Kurt asked so that Kurt will give him his approval. 

Kurt jokes sometimes that Blaine is a tougher Dom of himself than Kurt could ever be to him, and maybe that's true, but Blaine doesn't care about that right now. Kurt has given Blaine an order, and Blaine is going to carry it out as long as he can. It's simple as that. 

He closes his eyes again, lifts his hands up just to flex them, just to move _something_. His thighs are shaking, trembling constantly now with the strain to hold him up.

He doesn't realize Kurt's there, beside him, until Kurt's fingers drag over his right thigh, stirring the hairs and tracking through the sheen of sweat over his skin. 

"Is it time to stop?" Kurt asks softly, right in Blaine's ear, and Blaine shakes his head. It doesn't even hurt, not really. He's sore, and he'll feel this later, but the shaking is all physical, separate from what he knows he can endure. 

"Not yet," he croaks out. 

Kurt's silent for a moment before he says, "Four fifty-nine." That alone brings Blaine back to the surface enough to huff out a laugh. What had he thought about four minutes and fifty-nine seconds? Because there he is, at the turning point and, as each second ticks by, flying past it. He knows he's in the danger zone now, that however many more seconds he holds out, that's how much he'll be facing from the lexan paddle. He rolls his head back, the back of his skull rolling against his achy shoulders. A rush of endorphins floods through him, makes his hair stand on end. God, that paddle is going to hurt. 

A part of him can't wait.

Kurt's gone, just for a few seconds, and then he's back, and Blaine shivers as Kurt wipes him down with a dry towel, whisking the sweat away from his cheeks and his neck, stroking over his chest, and then dragging the towel a little harder over his nipples just to be a tease. Blaine smiles, even if he knows it's a little pained. His whole face is scrunched up now, the shaking worse. He tenses his thighs, biting his lip as he forces his legs to be still, and that's almost a relief, almost like he's taking a break, but it's simultaneously harder, his back aching as it rests against the wall. 

He glances at the timer. 5:27. 5:28. 5:29. He takes a deep breath and Kurt strokes over his thighs as Blaine gives in to the trembling, letting his arms hang on either side of him, his head hanging forward. He can do this. He can make it. Just a little bit longer.

He has no end goal in sight, really, but he knows he's not done yet. He knows he can be a little bit better, do a little bit more.

"Come on," he whispers to himself as Kurt clucks his tongue but says nothing, opting to towel over the back of Blaine's neck while he has access to it. Blaine clenches his hands into fists as the tremors travel up his hips to his abs, the muscles clenching and unclenching, tightening and almost cramping on him, as Blaine starts to pant. His eyes are even watering. Everything is sore and starting to hurt, and he can't escape being right in the moment now, groaning as he stares at the timer out the corner of his eye.

5:42. 5:43. 5:44.

Kurt's lips are against his cheek, and he whispers, "I love you. Whenever you're ready, baby," in Blaine's ear, fussing with the towel. There's nowhere else for him to dry, and Blaine knows Kurt's starting to feel antsy, but Blaine sees 5:50 flash and closes his eyes, slows his breathing, and counts out. Ten more seconds. He's decided, ten more seconds, he can do this.

Counting back from ten to one gives him renewed sense of peace, a goal to push himself forward, and the strength to finish this. He tips his head back, opens his eyes and looks up at Kurt, who's fretting, Blaine can tell. Kurt's always scared Blaine will push himself too far, but he's got this. Seven, six, five...

Somehow his timing is off when he reaches one, glancing at the timer and seeing that it says 6:01. Off by a second, and that :01 just means one more time the unyielding paddle is going to come down hard against his ass. 

But it's over; he stands up with Kurt's help, Kurt gripping Blaine's arm and touching his back as soon as Blaine is off the wall. 

Blaine shuffles across the carpet, reaches the plush, blue arm of their couch, and all-but falls over it, exhausted, back shiny with sweat and red where it was pressed for so long against the wall. He could really use another water bottle, if only to pour it over his face. His thighs are still twitching, like he just ran a marathon and now his muscles don't know how to be still. 

"Ready for my close-up, Mr. DeMille," he says sleepily, closing his eyes. When Kurt says nothing, Blaine opens one eye again, sees Kurt standing in front of him, feet shoulder width apart, long legs and back straight, arms folded over his chest, and his brow furrowed. If Blaine had any energy left to move, he'd be scrambling to get up, to kneel, to do something, but he can't right now. This couch is the best thing he's ever felt in his life.

"You can't be serious," Kurt says. "Did you really think I was going to spank you _right now_? Honestly, Blaine." 

Blaine blinks his eyes open, his heart thumping just a little faster. Did he not do it right? "What's wrong?" he croaks.

"Um, you're sore and you need a good massage first before I spank you. As if I'd take that paddle out right now when your muscles look like they're doing a... a polka all over your body." 

"A polka? Really?" Blaine asks, shifting his hips and angling them a bit so his dick is resting between his thighs instead of trapped under them. There, now he's way too comfortable to move. He wiggles his ass in the air. "Come on, I've assumed the position."

"Well, unassume it," Kurt says as he heads back to the kitchen. He returns moments later with another water bottle and a bowl of ice cubes that clanks and jumbles as Kurt makes his way to the couch. He sets the bowl on the coffee table and then throws himself down on the couch, sitting in the middle of it, his thigh next to Blaine's head. 

Blaine's eyes fly open when Kurt presses the icy water bottle to the back of his neck. "Cold! Cold!" he says, pushing himself up. "I was _comfortable_."

"Good, you're up," Kurt says with a falsely angelic grin. "Now, come here and be more comfortable." He pats his lap as Blaine eyes the water bottle suspiciously.

"Oooh, over the knee," he says finally, wiggling and slithering forward until his knees are on the couch cushions so he can stretch forward over Kurt's lap. "We haven't done it like this in awhile."

"Oh my God, I'm not spanking you right now," Kurt says, rolling the side of the water bottle over the curve of Blaine's cheek for good measure.

"Ah! Too cold!" 

"That's what you get," Kurt says as he sits the water bottle down on the couch. Blaine watches it roll along the cushion until it rests against his arm. He pushes it away again only for it to roll back in place. 

Kurt's quiet, but then his hands are smoothing flat and hard down first Blaine's right thigh and then his left, squeezing from the bottom of his ass down to the back of his knee. 

"Mmm that feels good," Blaine says, pillowing his head on his arms. 

"Who was that that was all, 'Oh, come on and spank me now! Who needs to relax first? Not me. My name is Blaine Anderson and I'm invincible,'" Kurt says, lowering his voice just a tad as he mocks Blaine.

"Be nice, it was your idea," Blaine says, reaching back behind himself and swatting blindly in the air as he aims for Kurt and misses. He drops his hand down, lets it hang off the side of the couch, and breathes out, feels Kurt's thighs dig into his chest and stomach. He hasn't crawled across Kurt's lap in a while. He forgot how nice it feels to be here, warm, and safe.

Kurt uses his knuckles to knead circles into the base of Blaine's spine, working up his vertebrae, then spreading his palms out over Blaine's shoulder. Blaine relaxes by degrees, his arms feeling looser and looser as Kurt massages his tired muscles. He could go to sleep like this, has before, but there's a part of him that's too on edge, doing the math in his head and anticipating when Kurt's going to tell him to get up, that it's time. Six minutes is... it's going to be a lot. And no matter how tired he is, he is still achingly hard from the anticipation.

Blaine can't help but laugh, squirming a little when Kurt starts squeezing and massaging his ass, spreading him apart and then pushing his cheeks together, grabbing handfuls and squeezing hard.

"Are you still massaging or are you just shamelessly groping me now?" Blaine asks, his dick pulsing against the couch cushions.

"Excuse me, this is still a _muscle_ , thank you," Kurt says. "And I'll grope it whenever I want." 

"That's what I thought," Blaine says, smirking. 

Minutes later, Kurt sits back, his palms resting flat against Blaine's back. "You're still so hot," Kurt murmurs, concerned.

"Why thank you," Blaine says, twisting to try and look up at Kurt with a grin. 

Kurt purses his lips. "Temperature hot, Blaine," he says flatly. Then he's stretching over Blaine, careful not to jostle him, as he reaches for the bowl of slowly melting ice cubes.

Blaine watches him quietly. "And what are those for?"

"Cooling you down," Kurt says. He dips his fingers into the cubes and Blaine turns his face into his arms where it's warm and dark. He can't help but whine pitifully. "Relax," he hears, and he tries to, but man, ice is so _cold_. 

Kurt's wet fingertips start right at the base of Blaine's neck and massages, digging into the muscles ever so gently and making Blaine shiver. Kurt reaches back into the bowl and Blaine waits, holding his breath and then letting it out with a hiss when the blunt, wet edge of an ice cube trails all the way down his spine. Kurt leaves it there at the dip of Blaine's back just before the rise of his ass and lets it finish melting until there's a little puddle of water balanced at the base of Blaine's spine. The pooling water almost tickles, and the cold makes his toes scrunch against the couch cushion. 

Blaine can't resist tipping to the side, just a little bit, and letting the water trickle onto Kurt's sweatpants. "Hey!" Kurt says, bringing his hand down in a sharp crack on Blaine's ass that Blaine hears more than he feels.

He laughs, pushing himself up to look back at Kurt. "What? You're hot too," he says, wiggling his eyebrows. "You're going to have to take your pants off soon if you don't want to catch cold." 

Kurt rolls his eyes. "Oh my God, you're ridiculous," he says. 

"Only sometimes. By the way...," he trails off, reaching back to pat his ass where Kurt had slapped it. "Did that one count? Or were you just practicing? Because here I was, laying here, minding my _own_ business. I thought it was relaxation time." 

Kurt's face twists, and he narrows his eyes playfully. "That was just a warm up," he says, pushing his sleeve up before bringing his hand down again, a sharp, sudden jolt of pain flashing over Blaine. It's gone as quickly as it comes, though. "Just like that one was a warm up too," Kurt says.

"Well you just keep warming up if you'd like. I'll be here," Blaine says, lowering himself down again, his chin resting on his arms. He's strung out like a cat, stretched out and relaxed, and honestly, he'd be okay with not moving for awhile and letting Kurt have whatever fun he wanted.

Kurt hums thoughtfully, his hand rubbing back and forth over the curve of Blaine's ass. Then, gently, his fingers slide between Blaine's cheeks, stroking up and down. "You don't need warming up here, that's for sure. It's so hot." 

Kurt leans over him again, and Blaine hears the ice cubes clank against each other as Kurt stirs his unoccupied fingers through them. "In fact, maybe you're a little too hot. What kind of caring fiance would I be if I didn't make sure you... cooled down a bit."

Blaine sucks in a breath, suspecting what's coming. "Kurt..."

"What? It's relaxation time, so relax," Kurt says, voice purring that faux innocent way that he loves to do when he's in charge like this. Blaine stays where he is, but he's hyper-alert, feels the tell-tale drips of water as Kurt brings an ice cube out of the bowl and holds it over Blaine's body. 

The ice cubes are slick wet enough, edges rounded from melting just a bit, and then melting more in Kurt's warm fingers, but Blaine still can't stop the way the air punches out of him as Kurt slips the ice cube down between his cheeks, rubs the edge of it around and around his hole, and then sinks it inside of Blaine with just the gentlest of encouragement. Blaine's hole swallows it up, and he pants as he feels the ice cube melt rapidly and trickle down inside of him, cool water making him squirm. 

"Good boy," Kurt murmurs, petting over Blaine's ass. "That was interesting."

Blaine blinks, stretches his fingers out and curls them back up until he's pressing two fists against the couch cushions. "Interesting is one word for it," he says. He can't help the way his asshole is clenching and unclenching, even though he can feel that the cube was melted down and gone almost as soon as it pressed inside of him. It still feels like it's _there_.

"Hmmmm. Interesting good or interesting bad?" Kurt asks, damp fingertips grazing over Blaine's hole, back and forth, his rim just cooled down enough that the touches only drive him a _little_ crazy.

"Interesting... neutral?" Blaine says. It's over so fast, felt mostly... _weird_. They've played with ice some. Blaine has _very_ fond memories of Kurt holding a cube of ice between his teeth and dragging it over Blaine's nipples until they were painfully hard. But this is... this is different. 

"I'd like to try it again, to see if that neutral changes any," Kurt says. He reaches for another ice cube, hand in the icy water, stirring the cubes up, but he waits, eyes on Blaine's face.

Blaine nods, staring at the bowl. Kurt pulls out another cube, and Blaine can't help but feel like maybe this one is slightly bigger than the last, not melted quite as much, and Kurt doesn't give it time to melt down further, bringing it quickly to Blaine's rim and then pressing in, pushing it inside with one fingertip.

It's a smooth glide into Blaine. It doesn't hurt aside from the shock of freezing cold, momentarily numbing him as he breathes in and out, tries to relax as the cube melts inside of him, going, going... gone, just small remnants of cool water left behind, pooling inside of him. How many of them could he take? His hole is opened up, usually stays that way if Kurt has anything to do about that, and having them slipped inside of him is easy. He's tempted to reach for a third, hand it to Kurt before he overthinks it, wonders if he tried two at once, if they'd stay solid a little longer, if he could clench around them, feel the burn of the ice...

"That is, uh... we could play with that, some more," he says finally, clearing his throat. Kurt smooths his palms up Blaine's back and then down over his ass again. 

"Good," Kurt says, and Blaine can practically hear the giant smile on his face. "I was hoping you'd say that. It was so hot to watch you take it. You just opened right up." 

"And I wonder who trained me to do that," Blaine quips, earning himself another light swat on his ass. 

"You are just begging for it today," Kurt says. "Fine, up then." 

Blaine bites his lip, even as he pushes himself up on tired arms. He sits up on his knees and gasps as water drips out of his hole, between his thighs, cool and wet as it splashes onto his calves. He blushes, looking up at Kurt. That was... He hadn't expected that.

"Huh," Kurt says. "Who knew ice turned into that much water."

"Yeah," Blaine says, his voice suddenly rough with embarrassment and arousal from the look on Kurt's face alone. Kurt loves to see evidence of what he's caused, what he put Blaine through. He loves to just see his handiwork, his eyes dark and cheeks flushed. 

Kurt licks his lips. "Stand up and bend over the arm of the couch," Kurt says, a steady firmness in his voice that sometimes takes a while to get there. They've been halfway through a spanking before when Kurt suddenly shifts, clicks in place, but now he's there, right at the beginning. Blaine shivers. He is in for an experience, to say the least.

"Yes, Sir," he says, quickly and obediently. He's always fast to address Kurt properly when Kurt looks like this, sounds like he does. It settles everything inside of Blaine, and nothing feels right until his stomach's pressed to the arms of the couch, buttons poking his skin just slightly uncomfortably, and his ass in the air, arms curled under his head. 

Kurt stands to the side of him, shadowing Blaine from the bright yellow ceiling lights. He slides his hand down over Blaine's ass. "So, our deal was, for every second you held the pose I told you to get in, you got a spank."

"Yes, Sir," Blaine says. 

"Now, I've done the math, but I know you have too, so... just how many times am I going to spank you now, Blaine?" 

Blaine licks his lips. "360 times." 

"Good," Kurt says, squeezing Blaine's ass cheek and rubbing his fingertips over Blaine's wet hole slowly. "But if memory serves, you stopped at six minutes and _one_ second, so that means 360 and..." he raises his hand back and smacks it down against Blaine's right cheek. "One to grow on."

Blaine nods, feels his face flushing. "That one didn't count either, by the way," Kurt says with a smirk. Blaine closes his eyes but can't help but smiling. Of course it didn't.

"Next question," Kurt says, his right hand stroking over Blaine's hair line, tracing the curls that are just starting to break from the gel he uses religiously. "Did you make it to five minutes?"

Blaine inhales sharply. "I did," he says. "I made it to six minutes."

"You did. You're a good boy," Kurt says. He leans in and kisses Blaine's shoulder, then moves up and kisses Blaine's cheek, high on his cheekbone where his blush is pinkest. "I'm so proud of you. So, am I going to use my hand for those last sixty seconds you earned?"

"No, Sir," Blaine whispers. 

"And what am I going to use?" 

"My... my paddle," Blaine says, licking over his lips. "The long one. My favorite one." 

"Right again. Are you ready?"

"Yes Sir," Blaine says, a pleasant shiver dancing through him.

"Okay. Red means?" 

Blaine holds back an impatient huff. They've been over this a thousand times, but Kurt is insistent. "Red means stop."

"Yellow?"

"Yellow means slow down," Blaine says, almost whining as he presses his face into his arms. "Come on, Kurt, please, can't we just -"

A light swat to his ass quiets him. "So impatient. And green?" 

Blaine bites his lip. "Green means go ahead." 

Kurt flattens his hand, slides it over Blaine's ass cheeks, squeezes one and then the other. "And what color are you at right now?"

"Green. Like so green. Marc by Marc Jacobs kelly green splash from the 2013 winter season green, Kurt." He's babbling, already. He _hates_ the waiting, hates when Kurt drags it out. It drives him _crazy_. 

"That's a good green," Kurt says as he raises his hand up and sends it falling down hard against Blaine's right ass cheek. "Don't worry about counting, Blaine. I've got you."

 _Thank God_ , Blaine thinks. Sometimes counting grounds him, and sometimes Kurt just likes hearing Blaine strain to remember what number they're on. It can be fun to play with, but they both know they're going to a big number today, and Blaine is ready to just fall into it and quietly lose his mind in the best way.

Kurt adopts a steady rhythm, 1-2-3, right, left, then center. He's gotten so good at this over the years. The first time they brought it up, Kurt was _terrified_ of hurting him, but now they both enjoy it, especially since it takes awhile for Blaine to feel it. It’s methodical, the slap of Kurt’s hand, different from any sort of paddle they use, a steady _smack, smack, smack_ that builds and builds like a simmering fire. It’s louder than it hurts, for the longest time, a hedging burn that never quite surprises Blaine as he coasts on the sounds of Kurt spanking him.

"That's fifty," Kurt says minutes later, panting. "Your ass looks so good." 

Blaine opens his eyes, almost feels like he’s waking up from a nap, turns his head so his cheek is resting on his arms and he can look sideways at Kurt. "Mmm thank you, Sir," he says, a little sleepy, comfortable, his ass just starting to ache. 

"Oh, it's no trouble at all," Kurt says lightly, and just as Blaine chuckles, Kurt begins again, just a little harder, his bare hand cracking and breaking the silence of the room each time it come down. 

"O-oh," Blaine gasps, watching Kurt, the slight shift of his weight every time he brings his arm up near his head and then down, Blaine's ass bouncing embarrassingly with each swing. It just turns him on more, feeling the give of his ass, how it absolutely jiggles while Kurt spanks him, aware of the heaviness of his own ass as he takes it. It was odd to notice at first - it's one thing to know you have a bubble butt and another to _feel_ it.

Kurt keeps his bottom lip trapped between his teeth when he gets really into a good spanking, his eyes glued to Blaine's ass, jaw clenched. The muscles tense, and Blaine wishes he could kiss right there, along the cut of Kurt's jawline, and then suck on his throat. Kurt goes absolutely weak in the knees for that. 

But he can't, not now, not yet. Kurt speeds up, and each smack jolts Blaine further, little pained grunts falling from his lips with every crack, _Unh, unh, unh..._ His dick throbs, trapped between his thighs, skin sweating as he gets hotter and hotter pressed down against the couch. 

"One eighty," Kurt whispers. Blaine manages to push himself up just enough to look at Kurt, and Kurt's flushed all the way down past the slouchy collar of his shirt, skin splotchy red and sinfully delicious looking. His lips are bitten rosy, and his chest rises and falls as he breathes heavily. "Halfway done." 

They both pause, suspended in the moment, and then Kurt shakes his head, seems to snap out of it a bit, and smirks wryly before tapping the center of Blaine's ass lightly. "One eighty... and a half. Now we're really halfway done."

Blaine laughs, tired and strung out, and he takes a moment to stretch his arms out in front of him as Kurt rubs down his back. Kurt digs the heel of his palm between Blaine's shoulders until Blaine feels the built up tension break loose within him and he melts into a puddle on the couch. 

"Mmmm more," he hums, pushing up on his tiptoes so that his ass rises higher in the air. 

Kurt grins at him and crashes his hand down on Blaine's left cheek as an answer. He alternates, then, one cheek and then the other, back and forth, so so hard that Blaine finds himself pushing forward, dragging over the arm of the chair, almost physically trying to get away. 

He probably only scoots up maybe two inches, but still Kurt's hand squeezes his shoulder. "And where do you think you're going?" His voice is light, cheerful, and Blaine smiles, even as he hangs his head. 

"Sorry, Sir," he says, even as he pushes back, relaxes, and his toes touch the ground again. "You see, for some reason, my ass really hurts."

Kurt snickers. "Well, that is a predicament, isn't it," he replies, following it with a hard smack that rocks Blaine momentarily forward with a groan. 

The next ten are the same, and Blaine can't help but count them in his head. It's slow, achingly slow, and Blaine's ass is beginning to pulse as the pain fans out in waves, washing over him. He feels himself start to drown in it all over again, the pain lulling him to this calm peace inside of himself. 

Kurt starts favoring one cheek, blow after blow from his strong hand hitting in the same spot, _crack, crack, crack_... 

It must be up to a certain number in Kurt's head because after half a beat, not even long enough for Blaine to catch his breath, Kurt switches, delivering the same treatment to the other cheek. Blaine wonders how red he is. He gets lost in imagining it, feels boneless and floaty, distantly aware of the sting of Kurt’s hand and the noises spilling from his mouth but not really present, stretched out like a cat in the sun and just as warm. 

There's a pause, and that’s what first shakes Blaine, but he ignores it, savoring in the aching of his muscles, the involuntary clenching of his ass that is keeping him pulled away in cloud nine.

“Mmm, someone’s enjoying themselves,” Kurt hums, stroking and petting Blaine’s back, soothing. Blaine falls back to earth in his head, slowly, landing on both feet with Kurt there to catch him. 

“Mmhmm,” he purrs. “Why’dyoustop?” He slurs his words, clinging to the blanket of faraway still trying to envelope him. But Kurt is touching him, soft movements, a kiss to his temple, stroking over his cheek, and Blaine resigns to coming back to himself, his eyes fluttering open. He takes the first deep breath he's had in awhile, belly dropping down to the couch and his head lolling side to side on his arms, his hairline wet with sweat and gel. He's a mess, he can tell, from the sweat beading on his skin to the pearly precome dripping and sticking to his thighs, but this is nothing because now that he’s awake, focused, he's pretty sure he knows why Kurt's stopped this time.

It's confirmed when Kurt says, "Three hundred." 

Three hundred, the magical number that doesn't mean they're finished, that Kurt's hand gets a break - sort of, instead Kurt gets to wrap his long fingers around the black leather handle of the lexan paddle, gets to positively beat Blaine's ass with one of the toughest implements Blaine has ever faced. 

Blaine swallows hard, his gut twisting up. 

"Color?" Kurt asks, petting over Blaine's hair and draping over him, one of Kurt's hands resting protectively over the burning hot curve of Blaine's ass. 

"Green," Blaine says, closing his eyes and exhaling long and slow, deflating. 

"Still green for 61?" Kurt asks, his hand slowly stroking over Blaine's ass, right where he's the most sore. Blaine squirms, not quite a wince but an uncomfortable throb that feels good-bad, in a weird way, no matter how gentle Kurt's being.

"Still green," Blaine says thickly. He shivers. The most they've tried with the lexan at full swing is _twenty_.

"I'll build up on it," Kurt says, and something petulant wakes up in Blaine at that.

"No. No, don't," he says, turning look at Kurt. "I can take it."

Kurt scoffs. "Okay, Mr. Macho Fight Club," he says, smacking a kiss to the corner of Blaine's mouth and then smacking his hand down on Blaine's ass. "Let's see if your story changes after thirty."

"It won't!" Blaine grumbles, frowning. 

"Okay, baby," Kurt says softer. "Well, let me go get the torture device." He stands up quickly, cool air hitting Blaine's skin as soon as Kurt's not shielding him. 

Kurt walks down the length of the couch and turns around the corner, stands behind Blaine, and then places both his hands on Blaine's ass and smacks a quick, playful bongo beat on Blaine's cheeks. 

"I'm going for the lexan and Blaine's gonna get spaaa-aaa-aaa-aaanked...!" he sings as he disappears down the hallway to their bedroom.

"You love this too much!" Blaine calls out after him. He takes a moment to stand up, as much as he absolutely doesn't want to, and stretches, hands on his hips and thumbs just digging into the bottom of his back as he bends backward, stretching his back out. He stretches his arms over his head next, relaxes his torso, does a few swings side to side to work out any kinks he's got. 

Then, he takes a cautious step back, peers down the hallway. He can't see Kurt, so he breaks one of the cardinal spanking faux pas and reaches back again, this time cupping his ass. It's scorching hot and tender to the touch, especially when he digs his fingertips into his flesh, lifts his ass up, and then lets it fall, bouncing into place. He smooths his hands over it and squeezes again. He wishes he could _see_ it.

Before he can really press his luck, Blaine gets back into position, situating himself as comfortably as he can over the sweat-damp arm of the couch, but pushed back some, feet apart and ass cocked out, his chest resting on the arm of the couch so he juts out from it at an angle. He needs the security of his feet flat on the floor, the ability to clutch his hands together, for what's coming. 

He rolls his eyes as Kurt takes _forever_. He's not even sure what Kurt could be doing. Maybe wiping the paddle down, even though they always wipe their toys down thoroughly after using them, so it's guaranteed to be clean. Blaine closes his eyes, relaxes his arms, loosely folded again so he can rest his chin on them. 

He starts, in his mind, picturing Kurt walking back in the hallway, going to their bedroom, turning the light on. They don't have any sort of separate kinky dungeon or anything like that, and Kurt refuses to ruin the aesthetic of their bedroom by hanging their paddles up, so instead they get a separate drawer all to themselves. The lexan usually rests flat in one corner, all the paddles laid out side-by-side and organized by length. He imagines Kurt taking it out, sliding the drawer closed, maybe folding one of their larger pillows up in half, resting it on the corner of the bed, and delivering a few practice swings. 

He sees Kurt standing tall and firm and, God, _so hot_ , sleeves pushed up. First, he bends his elbow, swings from there, the paddle cutting through the air and smacking against the pillow with a quiet thud. That will be Blaine, soon - _very_ soon - at the receiving end of each swing. He shifts a little, aware for the first time in awhile, of how achingly hard he still is. Sometimes he wishes there was two of him, just so he could experience Kurt spanking him and get to stand back and watch it at the same time. There's nothing hotter than when Kurt gets _really_ into it.

Blaine shifts his weight a little, shivering as he pictures Kurt shifting himself too, winding his full arm back, standing a little further back from the pillow to get a good angle, and then just letting his arm fly through the air and smack the paddle down hard on the pillow, creasing the case momentarily.

Blaine bites his lip, hard, digs his fingertips into his forearms, and firmly resists touching himself, no matter how badly he wants to.

Blaine jumps, startled from his fantasy, as Kurt says, "Sorry, I couldn't find the new pack of wipes," as he strolls down the hall and back to the couch, back to Blaine. "Turns out they were still in the bag, along with that gag we still haven't tried."

Blaine eases up high enough to peer behind himself at Kurt suspiciously, wondering if Kurt opened the gag up to bring too. Honestly, he may need something to bite into, if he's really going to take the lexan that's held so casually in Kurt's grip. But, there's no gag, just a clear, practically bulletproof plastic paddle, intimidatingly long and tapering off into a leather handle. Just the paddle, all by itself.

Kurt smirks at him and shrugs. "I thought about it, but... maybe next time." He makes his way around the couch, stands just in front of Blaine. Blaine's eyes don't leave the paddle, but he can feel heat radiating off of Kurt, and he knows that Kurt is still hard in his sweats, just as hard as Blaine is. 

Kurt spins the paddle until it's sideways, brings it down so the rounded, thin edge of it can go back and forth over Blaine's back. The touch is feather-light, just enough to make Blaine quiver, with fear and impatient need. 

"Besides," Kurt says, bringing the paddle to rest on the couch not far from Blaine's face, "I think today I really want to hear you."

"Yes, Sir," Blaine murmurs, eyes glued to the paddle. Each perfectly circular hole littering the paddle's surface is about to make their own marks on Blaine, about to blister him and drive him crazy.

"Kiss?" Kurt asks, and Blaine snaps free from his thoughts long enough to nod, watching as Kurt brings the paddle up parallel with Blaine's face. Blaine stretches his neck out, tilts his head a bit, and presses his lips to the center of the paddle, eyelids fluttering shut as he presses a chaste kiss to the lexan. When Kurt pulls it away, Blaine's pouted bottom lip drags over one of the holes, and he sucks in a breath, holding it as he steels himself.

"Sixty-one," Kurt says. "Ready?" 

Blaine nods, holding his breath, and can almost hear Kurt scowling behind Blaine. A heavy hand rests on the small of his back, holding him in place just at the same time as it guards him, keeps him from floating away too far. "Breathe, Blaine," Kurt says, and Blaine obeys, letting the breath whoosh out of him just as Kurt raises the paddle.

The crack of the paddle against his skin splinters the air, and the stinging rush of pain makes Blaine cry out. Kurt doesn't wait long, tapping the paddle once, gently, against Blaine's backside before bringing it down forcefully again. Somewhere, in the back of his brain, Blaine can tell that Kurt is holding back, just a little, but the ebb of pain rushing through him wants him to believe otherwise, wants this to be as hard as it can get.

"Oh, _God_ ," he groans after five. It feels like each little hole in the paddle is catching him and breaking him open with every strike, the hard plastic surface reddening his ass and spreading the blow evenly across his cheeks with a solid _crack_. 

Kurt delivers the next five in quick succession, and Blaine can't even draw his breath, gasping wildly, his fingertips bruising his forearms as he clutches onto himself. 

"Stop, stop, don't hurt yourself," Kurt says gently. Blaine forces his eyes open to see Kurt kneeling next to him, feels Kurt pet at his hair. He takes Blaine's hands, stretches his fingers out, and then brings Blaine's right hand to the front edge of the couch, curls his fingers around it and squeezes his hand on top of Blaine's. "Hold on to that instead," he says.

Blaine nods, somehow, he thinks he does at least, and whispers hoarsely, "Yes, Sir."

Kurt stands. "Color?"

"Green," Blaine says, dropping his head down to his arm again. 

Kurt grabs the paddle back up, rests it against Blaine's ass. "Fifty-one more."

Blaine's whine turns into garbled desperation as Kurt swings his arm back and then brings the paddle down, harder than what Blaine ever could picture in his head, the sound reverberating in Blaine's head. Blaine's chanting as Kurt lands the next ten blows. "Fuck, fuck, Kurt, fuck, ohhhh, Kurt, _fuck_."

His ass is _burning_ , raw and stinging, hot without even being touched. Blaine squeezes the edge of the cushions so hard that his fingers ache, and just as he stretches them out, takes a momentary reprieve, Kurt starts again, and Blaine scrambles to latch on.

"Oh please please, I can't, I can't, oh _God_ ," Blaine cries out after a particularly painful blow. He crawls forward, scampering over the arm of the couch, around it, flailing limbs everywhere as he sprawls along the cushions, hides his embarrassed face in his hands. That was 35. He knows it. There's still so far to go.

"Where are you going," Kurt says, just this side of stern, and Blaine doesn't want to look at him, doesn't want to see Kurt disappointed. He twists up instead, brings his knees up, turned to the side just enough to bring his knees to his chest, take a deep, shuddering breath.

Kurt's quiet for a long time, lets Blaine breathe through the worst of it, lets the tremors dancing through Blaine's body calm some. Blaine's waiting for the order to get back into position, the punishment that's going to come from this - in a scene, he's obedient. He's Kurt's, he does as he's _told_ , but it _hurts_ , pain flooding through him and making him unable to breathe. 

"Whenever you're ready," Kurt says, quietly after several beats. "If you're still green."

Blaine swallows hard, stretches out. He's embarrassed. He normally doesn't... doesn't _flee_ like that. But he thinks he wants more. He stretches his legs back out first, hissing as the burn of his ass returns to protest each movement. He’s vaguely aware of how he’s still impossibly hard, the thrill and bite making his cock drip and ache with need, but none of that even matters. Nothing matters, not even the pain, until he can get back in position and be good.

Kurt steps back, lets Blaine get himself back into position. He wouldn't want Kurt to help, not now. He wants to show Kurt he can still be good, can get himself ready. He brings his chest down to rest on the arm of the couch, straightens his legs, and gives himself the best advantage of a strong, steady position.

"Still green," he says after a minute. "I'm sorry, Kurt, I -"

Kurt's hand lands on the back of Blaine's neck, and Blaine bows his head, but instead Kurt's fingers trace down to Blaine's jaw, cup his chin, force Blaine to look up at Kurt, who's smiling softly at him.

"I forgive you. It's okay. And if you want to stop -"

"I don't," Blaine says quickly. "I'm fine." He doesn't have the energy to joke, to wiggle his ass like he did before, but he can turn his head, brush his lips in a quick kiss to Kurt's palm. "I want it," he whispers, lips moving against Kurt's hand. "Please."

He feels Kurt shiver before he moves away, resumes his own position, and rests the paddle against Blaine's ass once more.

The first couple of swats are gentle in comparison to what he was previously dished out, and it's a reprieve, but it's a waste. Blaine breathes out, and then relaxes when Kurt steadily escalates, a steady rhythm that gets harder and harder until, on the next tenth strike, he's crashing the paddle down again, so hard the shock vibrates through the plastic and equally through Blaine.

The next ten are the same, a steady _smack, smack,_ that whips against Blaine, paddles him into a pool of tense submission. "Ow, owowowow, fuuuuuck, fuck fuck ahhh-" Blaine's teeth find his own arm, and he bites down, hard, muffling some of his own cries. 

He's not sure when his eyes start watering, but he knows when he starts sobbing. There's five left - distantly, he hears Kurt tell him that. "Just five more, Blaine. You're so good. Five more." Something heavy inside of him breaks apart, cracking and splintering as Kurt drags the last five out until Blaine's elbows are pressed against the arm of the couch and his face is in his hands as he weeps.

It doesn't stop - not yet, and Blaine's sure he screams during the next two blows that rain down on his ass.

Three left. Two left. One left.

Blaine lifts his head, his face a mess of snot and tears, and he grips hard onto the couch, determined now, like he's reached the end of a marathon, and he blows out a hot breath as Kurt slices through the air so smoothly there's a whip of a sound following it, and he whacks the paddle down, full force, onto Blaine's ass. 

Blaine lurches forward, hears Kurt throw the paddle down onto the coffee table, scattering magazines everywhere. Kurt falls down onto the couch and pulls Blaine over his lap, twisting Blaine so that he's resting on his hip instead of his sore ass, and then Kurt envelopes him into his arms. Blaine tucks his face into Kurt’s neck and weeps, softer and softer until he’s sniffling, trembling ever so slightly in Kurt’s arms.

They're quiet for a couple minutes, Blaine's eyes closed as Kurt rocks him, holding him tight. Blaine can't think much past the aching throb in his ass that stings anew every time he clenches his cheeks. 

"So... that was intense," Kurt says, breaking the silence.

Blaine's too tired to even attempt to laugh. "Yeah," he says. He could go to sleep right here, right now, even though his eyes are wet and he’s still ridiculously hard, dick tucked up and pressed against Kurt’s belly. He’s tired and Kurt’s holding him, and Blaine could really sleep.

But instead, Kurt's holding his jaw, lifting his head up, making Blaine open his eyes and look at him. "How are you?" 

Blaine is exhausted but feels a sweeping rush of endorphins swoop down through him and settle in his gut, making him smile. "I'm great," he says. He sounds drunk. "Soooo great." 

"Sooo pain-stoned more like," Kurt says. "You think you'll be okay if I move? I need to get the lotion." 

"Mmhmmm, I'm great," Blaine hums, and Kurt snorts as he slides slowly out from under Blaine, his hands steady on Blaine's back as Blaine lowers onto the couch by degrees.

He's almost fallen asleep by the time Kurt gets back, pushes him up, and settles under Blaine again. A wet cloth startles him awake. It's not freezing, just gently cool, and Kurt wipes over Blaine's face with it.

"You've never cried like that before," Kurt says quietly. "Was that okay?"

Blaine licks his lips, lifts his face a little as Kurt keeps petting over him with the cloth. It's soothing. He shrugs. "It was different," he says. "Not bad. I didn't know it'd happen. It just kind of... did, and then I couldn't stop it." 

"Okay," Kurt says. "But if it was too much -"

"It wasn't." Blaine flops against Kurt, presses his face into Kurt's neck. "I think I loved it. I feel kind of... free? Is that weird? I feel good, like when we watch The Notebook to have a good cry." 

"That makes sense," Kurt says, then he sniffles, and Blaine jerks back with a wince to look at Kurt. Kurt's eyes are red-rimmed, and he quickly wipes over his eye with the back of his wrist. "Shut up," he says in advance. "It's not easy seeing your fiance cry like that, okay." 

"You are adorable," Blaine says, dropping back down against Kurt's chest so hard that Kurt lets out a little " _oof_ " even as his arms wrap around Blaine once again.

Blaine smiles into the soft jersey of Kurt's shirt, shifts just enough to make sure Kurt can get to all his ass when he hears the cap of Kurt's extra aloe infused lotion pop up. 

Kurt's touch is gentle, but Blaine still winces, bites his lip when Kurt rubs the lotion into his sore skin. He wonders if he's bruised. He has to be, for the ache to be as deep as this.

"Ow," he says dully when Kurt palms over a particularly sore spot.

"Just wait 'til you see it," Kurt hums, and Blaine perks up a little bit, twisting in Kurt's arms as Kurt clucks at him. "No no, hey, just wait a second, geez."

Kurt finishes up with the lotion and together they manage to get Blaine stretched out onto the couch, resting on his belly. It's weird to think about how little time has passed since he was just a sobbing mess, and now he's perfectly calm, if a little sniffly. 

Kurt's not gone long, and Blaine hears him pad back in and click around on his phone for a second. "Ready for your glamour shot?"

"I was born ready, and then my cute fiance gave me the finishing touches," he says, shimmying his hips just the slightest bit so that his body, or Kurt, won't fuss at him for moving yet.

He hears the camera click, then three more times. Kurt likes to get several angles. 

"Here," Kurt says finally, placing the phone in Blaine's waiting hands. "You're um..."

"Whoa," Blaine breathes, staring at the pictures of his own ass. His chest feels tight, and the swoop in his gut from earlier wraps around his insides and clenches tight. Could that really be _his_ ass? It's slick from the leftover sheen of the lotion, red and round, a little swollen, maybe. Circular bites litter both his ass cheeks, ringing marks left over from the paddle. Stark black and blue blotches stand out against the blood-red, bruises shading each curve of Blaine's ass, little light red lines from where the edges of the paddle caught him especially hard trace over his backside, criss-crossed and blending into the red.

Blaine takes a deep breath. "Wow," he says, thumbing then through the other pictures. There's a close-up, with the flash on, that really shows off each purpling bruise, and Blaine swallows hard. 

"What do you think?" Kurt asks tentatively when Blaine eventually hands him his phone.

Blaine's not sure what to say. "I..." He closes his mouth. "I didn't think I'd ever look like that," he says. "I - I mean, I always _wanted_ to, but..."

"OhthankGod," Kurt breathes out all in one relieved whoosh of a breath. "You almost gave me a heart attack."

"If I did that, you wouldn't be able to do this again," he says, reaching back and patting his own ass, then immediately wincing. "Ow."

"Again, huh?" Kurt says, smirking. "That sounds promising." 

Blaine shivers, wonders what Kurt will use _next_ time. He loves that there will be a next time, and one after that. But all that has to wait for him to heal. For now...

"It does," Blaine says, reaching out and taking Kurt's hand as he smirks. "Speaking of promising, I remember someone saying something about the blowjob of my life...?"


End file.
